Sundries
by Miiko Ashida
Summary: A collection of scenes of the girls going shopping and other sundry things. Part I: Triela and Hillshire.
1. Triela & Hillshire

_PART I: TRIELA & HILLSHIRE_

* * *

Hillshire stood surveying a seemingly endless shelf upon which were stacked hundreds of boxes. Behind him, Triela stood with her arms crossed. Her handler ran a finger down the different labels, muttering to himself. 

"No…no…no… What about these?"

"I don't think so! It can't be comfortable. I mean, look at those studs!"

"They're supposed to prevent too much slippage."

"We're not talking about a river, here."

Hillshire put the rubbers back on their shelf. "Why are we even here?"

"It's a necessary precaution. You don't want to catch some horrible illness, do you?"

"You're exaggerating the risks, Triela. Besides, I find them very uncomfortable."

"Well, it's a small tradeoff for safety, so stop complaining."

"That's easy for you to say," grumbled Hillshire. "You're not the one who has to wear them…"

Triela cleared her throat and tapped her foot. Hillshire selected another box.

"Fine. What about _these_?"

"Hillshire! That's totally unsafe."

"What do you mean?"

"This brand wears out all the time. Don't you know anything?"

"I haven't been in the market for this sort of thing in a long time, you know."

With a growl, Triela snatched a seemingly random box, tucked it under her arm, and headed toward the checkout, shouting over her shoulder, "That much is obvious! Who takes so long to find a decent pair of rainboots? I hate shoe shopping with you."

Hillshire ducked his head and followed her meekly.


	2. Rico & Jean

PART II: RICO & JEAN

* * *

"I like these," Rico said blandly. She wore the same impassive smile she'd been sporting since they'd entered the store, thirty minutes beforehand.

"No, they're too feminine," Jean replied, not looking up from the rack of slacks he was thumbing through. "Something with straighter lines, Rico."

"Yes, sir." Rico hung the pants back up and linked her hands behind her back.

"These ought to do."

Jean held up a pair of gray slacks. They were plain in the truest sense of the word: no details or embroidery, no pleats or creases, not even any pockets. Rico gave him the same tired smile. It was obvious she was beginning to get worn down. "Yes, sir. They're very nice."

Rico took the pants from him obediently and they headed toward the register. They passed an aisle of brightly colored sundresses, and Jean couldn't help hearing Rico's slight but sharp intake of breath and seeing how her eyes lit up. Her mouth opened slightly, then snapped shut again as she clamped down on the request.

"Rico." At the sound of her handler's voice, Rico pulled up short. "I'd like you to try on one of these dresses. My brother's can't be the only presentable _fratello_, understand?"

Rico nodded, her face glowing. Jean tried to ease his scowl into an encouraging smile. He tried to imagine Rico in a dress, looking so much like Enrica on the first day of school… 

He approached a shapeless, olive-drab dress that looked like something a nun might encourage her daughter to wear. It had a tall collar and long sleeves, and was completely out of place among its peacock-bright, backless companions. "What do you think of, uh, this one…?"


	3. Henrietta & Giuseppe

PART III: HENRIETTA & GIUSEPPE

* * *

"Henrietta, this, ah..." Giuseppe cleared his throat, glancing furtively around the aisle.

The girl stared up at him with wide hazel eyes and a happy, serene smile. Giuseppe felt his heart break a little. "Yes, Giuseppe?"

"This...isn't exactly what I meant when I told you to pick out anything you liked."

Henrietta's expression changed from pure, innocent bliss to doubtful puzzlement. "Oh. It - it's...not?" She glanced away. "I...I'm sorry, Giuseppe. I don't usually go shopping, and I wasn't sure which ones you'd like, so I sort of just picked out one of every different style. Is that wrong?"

The man resisted a sudden and strong urge to sink into the floor and never be seen again. "No, Henrietta. You did a good job. And you can get whatever you want, however much you want. But...ah..." _I don't know how to say this to her,_ he realized. She was peering up at him again, hanging on each syllable, her eyes misty. She thought of this as another job, a test, a chance to prove herself to him. _Goddamnit._

"Um, Giuseppe? We're going to the beach, just you and me, right? And it'll be our first trip that didn't have something to do with work, so I wanted to wear something special. I read in one of Claes' books that this is the right kind of clothing for those circumstances. This one even looks like what the girl was wearing on the cover!" Henrietta held up a delicate thing that vaguely resembled a parody of a ballerina's tutu. "I tried on one of Triela's, too, and Rico said it looked cute." She tucked her chin again. "Do you...do you n-not like it, G-Giuseppe?"

"No, no!" He knelt down and took Henrietta by the shoulders. "You have, uh, an excellent eye for colors. And I'm sure Rico's right, it must have looked very, er, 'cute'. But, Henrietta..." He glanced at the monstrosity on the hanger she held, and then at the mountain of similar items in their shopping cart, and regretted having left her to her own devices, even for the five minutes it took to use the restroom.

"Yes?"

"...This is all lingerie."


	4. Angelica & Marco

PART IV: ANGELICA & MARCO

* * *

"Angelica, wait in the car. I'll only be a minute."

"Okay." The dark haired girl settled back in her seat obediently, watching her handler as he locked the SUV and began to walk away. "Um, Marco-san?"

The man paused, turning back toward her. "Yes?"

"Um, didn't you say there was a surprise?"

"Yeah. That's right."

"Is...is this it? I've never been shopping before. Are you sure I'm supposed to stay in the car?"

Marco laughed. "No, Angelica, this isn't the surprise. You can be a good girl and wait just a little longer, can't you?"

"Yes, of course!" Angelica gave him a big smile and folded her hands in her lap to show just how good she could be.

"All right. I'll be back in a minute."

True to his word, Marco returned before Angelica even had time to consider getting fidgety. He opened the passenger side door and placed a thick, rectangular package on Angelica's lap. It was daintily wrapped in periwinkle tissue paper, with a sheer silver bow tied around it. Angelica gasped.

"Marco-san!"

"I thought it was about time you had one of these. Hillshire and Giuseppe thought it was too early, but I had one when I was your age." Marco coughed and scratched his cheek.

Beaming, Angelica struggled to lift the heavy package. She touched its wrappings reverently. This was something she and Marco would have in common. Inside was a passage to adulthood. Marco-san was giving her this as an ultimate sign of approval and respect - of the connection between them! She wanted to linger in this moment forever.

"Go on, open it," Marco encouraged.

Several layers of paper fell away to reveal -

"The Complete Guide to Marksmanship and Field Tactics, Training Manual Edition," Angelica read the heavy, hardcover book's title quizzically. "Um, thank you very much, Marco-san. It's very nice."

"Don't you like it?" Marco looked crestfallen. "Maybe it's a bit dry, and some of the words might be kind of difficult, but I thought, now you won't have to remember all the technical details. I can stop drilling you constantly and we can just have fun. And you can carry it around with you on missions, too. I got you a little fanny pack for it and everything so you can consult it in the field. It took forever to find a bookstore that still carried it, too. Apparently some of the techniques it teaches are now illegal in various countries."

Angelica didn't seem to hear. "Thank you. Thank you so much." The girl looked almost ready to cry, though with what emotion Marco wasn't quite certain. "Marco-san...does this..." She sniffled. "Does this mean you don't want to be my teacher anymore?" Her lip trembled uncontrollably.

"No!" Marco assured her. "Not at all, Angelica. It means I want to stop being just your teacher and start being your friend."


	5. Rico & Jean: Redux

PART V: RICO & JEAN (REDUX)

* * *

"Are you done in there yet?" Jean rapped sharply on the door of Rico's changing stall.

"Oh! Sorry, sir. I'm kind of - ooh - uhm -" A series of high-pitched squeaks issued from behind the door. Jean raised an eyebrow.

"Articulate your situation in a currently spoken language, please."

"It's just... The, uhm, the zipper - it's -" This time the squeaks were interspersed with soft grunts and several bangs and thumps.

"Rico!" snapped Jean, slightly alarmed by this point.

"I'm sorry! I'm very sorry, sir!"

"Explain what is going on this instant, or I'm coming in there."

"Uh, that might actually be - " pant, pant "- a good idea, sir."

"...Sorry?"

"I sort of need help. I mean, I know I should be able to do it myself, but the zipper is stuck, and it won't zip up. The more I tug on it, the stucker it gets."

Jean pinched the bridge of his nose. "Firstly, Rico, that is a _women's_ dressing stall and I cannot actually come in. Second, 'stucker' is not a word."

"...I'm sorry, sir. Uh, 'more stuck'?"

Jean sighed. "That's fine, Rico. Are you certain you can't get it unstuck?"

"Yes, sir. I'm really, really sorry -"

"Stop apologizing. These doors lock automatically; you have to open it for me." _I cannot believe I am doing this._

The door clicked and popped open a few inches. Jean could see the bright orange material of the dress they'd picked out - not his choice, but it wasn't for him, really, was it? - and a pale strip of skin that must have been Rico's leg. He cleared his throat, glancing around for the fitting room attendant. The matronly woman, who, to be honest, frightened him, was nowhere to be seen. He slipped in and shut the door hastily behind him.

Upon entering the stall, he immediately noticed two things. One, there was barely enough room in the space for Rico by herself, and two, the dress was nowhere near anyone's definition of zipped.

Jean resisted the urge to shut his eyes and say a few Hail Marys to purge his mind of the sight, and put his hands on Rico's shoulders. Her very bare, very tiny shoulders. _There is no God, _he realized. "Rico," he said, throat dry, "this is going to be somewhat awkward." _And by 'somewhat', I mean I will never be able to look at you the same, ever again. _"The zipper, uh, it's, well, it's caught in your, er, your - ahem -"

"...Panties?" supplied Rico, near-inaudibly.

"Ah - yes. That. Right." Even from behind, Jean could see that Rico's ears were glowing bright red. "Okay, the plan is this. On the count of three, I'm going to give a sharp tug on the zipper. If that doesn't dislodge it, I'll just get out my knife, and -"

Rico's ears went from scarlet to paper-white in .02 seconds.

"- cut it loose. Don't worry, I'll be careful." _Not that any amount of caution would do much good in this small a space, but I am _not_ putting my hands down there a second time. If she loses a finger or a kidney, she loses it, and we'll fix that later._ "Rico, you know how to make the sign of the cross, correct?"

"Yes, Jean-san."

"Do it." He said a Hail Mary to himself, hoping there would be a miracle and the dress would suddenly zip itself up. There wasn't. Rico's arms moved clumsily. When they fell back down to her sides, Jean slowly reached for the zipper. He took it firmly between his thumb and index fingers. Rico jumped. "Hold_ still_," Jean hissed, tightening the hand that was still on her shoulder. Then he tugged once, forcefully.

Perhaps the Virgin Queen had been listening after all, because the zipper loosened its death grip with a soft ripping sound.

_Shit. _The waistband of Rico's high-waisted underwear was torn, but the dress seemed to be intact. Jean felt the need to pour himself a very stiff drink. "I'm going to step outside now. Get dressed into your street clothes, please."

"Yes sir."

He patted her gingerly on the back, and slipped out through the door, looking nervously over his shoulder.

Unfortunately, it was the wrong shoulder.

"Signore!"

"Ah!" Jean paled. "Wait - I can explain!"


End file.
